Nigh!
The Sun rings the knell
Blood to you reclusive lover queen
The whelk ever glistening erections
Took this peignoir for crape
The steps to the grave

The noble of the golden prince
His arms to the sprigged crape
To have crafted so well
The intricate curve whorls as well
And your fiend heart
Soon drenched in this flowing blood
Let say-off the whorls
And be contented with the whelks on the sea walls
To be of hydra pet: this buxom has not learnt—
The secret of magic rest

Who knows whom she’d loved?
To clear her guilt he retire
Savoring his lonely rest
O noble! O whelks
You’ve paid this lover with a step to the grave

This sylph is not nubile
The sea
It’s hostile
This hydra will feed on the chest
Till they are apart in distress
And the guilt done to your humble chest
Proved to the earth that won’t detest

Beautiful queen you must pay
Even your lover won’t delay
The hyacinth of the mother sea
Flown apart—this’s sacrilege at heart

Where is the lover of your nipple attire
who rode in wind through the mountain range?
In his face with the royal robe
He should have cleansed your innocent guilt

Only when night had swallowed the day
When survival breathe in sorrowful way
He’d shown his haggling face in no to play
Lighting and thunders his help in rage
Flowers of the love beach
This nutrient is too good:
the bloody libation
So pure: it’s too good
For your drinking pleasure
It’s too good
Noble of the golden prince
Ever known as the dreaded since
To you the narcotic blood
To her lover distaste
O golden prince you’re naïve of it:
Your father’s deed—the silver king
Before her head to her feet he’d rung the bell
She’ll have to fall with this blood on her feet
Drifting to the lover she’d loved

(c) 2003 Anthony Adeniyi
anthony.adeniyi@yahoo.com
(+234) 08069256743
http://anthonyadeniyi..com.ng/?view=magazine